


Purple Is For Love

by SpiritsFlame



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Asexuality, Enjolras sees what Enjolras sees, M/M, acejolras, in which everyone is a stubborn ass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-04
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2017-12-07 12:09:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/748355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpiritsFlame/pseuds/SpiritsFlame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been five years since Enjolras came out, and since then he's become the face of Parisian asexuality. The entire time, he's been advocating his own ideas of what asexuality means, and how he believes it should effect relationships. </p><p>By the time Enjolras starts to think that he may want a relationship, the more he thinks he may have burned those bridges a long time ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It is important to note that asexuality is a very diverse sexuality- everyone experiences it differently, and everyone approaches asexuality difference. Asexuality in particular is something that tends to stay underground- there aren't really asexual rallies. However, I don't really see Enjolras as doing anything underground. 
> 
> To learn more about asexuality, you can check out asexuality.org

“People are not entitled to sex!” Enjolras yells, to roars of approval from the crowd. “Sex is not a right, it’s not even a privilege! You do not need sex to be happy! You don’t need it to be a better person and you don’t need it to be a better boyfriend!” The crowd cheers again, and Enjolras feels the rush of success that comes from a successful rally.

“You don’t need to put out to keep your partner happy!” he continues. “They should be trying to keep you happy!”

The crowd is awash in purple and grey, paper signs cluttering his view and large banners cutting wide swatches across the crowd. It’s the largest asexual rally in France, according to Combeferre. It’s a bigger turn out than even Enjolras had expected, and he can see media camera mixed in with the canons and the smart phones.

He’s building up to the end of his speech, bolstered by the energy of the crowd. “We cannot continue to be silent! Make some noise, make a scene! Let them know we’re here! Don’t let another generation go by thinking that sex is what they deserve! Don’t let anyone think that they need sex to be normal, to be happy! We are here, and we’re not going away!” In a fit of inspiration, he grabs the purple flag next to the podium and hefts it in his hand. He can see the flashes of hundreds of camera as the flag catches the wind, billowing out in his hand. The crowd screams.

Off to the side, Enjolras can see Combeferre rolling his eyes indulgently, and Enjolras grins at him, unperturbed.

He takes the flag with him when he strides away from the podium, heading towards where the others are waiting. Courfeyrac is wearing his usual expression of amused incredulity that he wears whenever he’s faced with asexuality en masse. Enjolras would be more upset about it if he didn’t know firsthand how accepting about it Courfeyrac really was.

Combeferre, ever organized, is already ushering the next speaker onstage.

“I’d ask if that was your great phallic symbol,” Courfeyrac says, “but I already know the answer.”

Enjolras ignores him, searching around for somewhere to put the flag down.

“In hindsight, that may have not been the best idea,” Combeferre says, appearing at his side and taking the flag from his hands. “Inspiring, but not very wise.”

“Ah, yes, but our dear Apollo lives on inspiration alone. What place has wisdom in the face of such sustenance?”

Enjolras takes a steadying breath. “Grantaire,” he says, turning to face the man who’d spoken. “I thought you weren’t planning to come today.”

Grantaire shrugs, easy and loose in a way that suggests he’s already had a drink or two. “And miss your soaring rhetoric? I wouldn’t dare. Besides, the people here are just grand. I already got this fantastic shirt!” He gestures expansively at his chest, where the word ASEXY is written in puffpaint on purple fabric.

Enjolras grits his teeth. “You cannot wear a shirt that implies asexuality when you do not actually identify as asexual.”

Grantaire grins at him. “I could be. Don’t try and put your labels on me, Enjolras. I am a free spirit.”

“I’m not dealing with you today,” Enjolras snaps. “And take that shirt off.”

“I’m not sure if going bare chested really gets your message across,” Grantaire replies with exaggerated doubt.

“What happened to the shirt you came in?” Enjolras demands.

“Someone spilled beer on it earlier. And it wasn’t even a come-on! She even gave me this to show their sincere apologies. A true lady.”

“Get a different shirt,” Enjolras commands, and strides off.

Combeferre catches up with him after a moment. “I don’t think he meant anything by it.”

“It’s wrong to claim or imply identification with a group to which you don’t belong. It only furthers the belief that we’re “just making it up” or that we “just can’t get any.” It’s counterproductive and harmful to the cause.”

“The cause, of course,” Combeferre replies. There’s a hint of reproof in his voice but he doesn't pursue it. “Anyway, there’s a news crew here, and they want to interview you.”

“Local?” Enjolras asks.

“National.”

Enjolras’ eyebrows raise. “That’s new.”

Combeferre gestures around them, at the little booths that have sprung up, at the happily milling crowd. “This whole thing is new. There’s almost 1,000 people here, and it’s a group that no one even knew existed.”

“I’m not a unicorn, Combeferre,” Enjolras snaps.

“You are a virgin though.” Courfeyrac has caught up to them, slowing to a walk at Enjolras’ other side.

“Yes, thank you, Courfeyrac. Have you given up on the ladies here?”

Courfeyrac grins. “Never. Just because they don’t want to have sex with me, it doesn't make them less charming. Less comprehensible, and less susceptible to my charms, but no less lovely.”

Enjolras grins at him, reminded again why he cares for his friends as he does.

Combeferre clears his throat from the other side. “So, should I tell the news crew you’re up for an interview?”

“Yes, definitely.”

“They’re going to ask you about masturbation,” Courfeyrac points out.

Enjolras makes a face. “I know.”

“And you’re sure?” Combeferre prompts.

“I’m sure. We came here for visibility. I’m not going to flinch at talking about myself.”

Combeferre rolls his eyes. “My mistake. I’ll tell them you’re for it. And the more personal the better.”

\--

They ask about masturbation. Enjolras wishes that he were more surprised, but he’s not. Even at a rally for asexuality, all people can talk about is sex.

He answers as tactfully as he can, and deflects when they press him for more details.

Enjolras spends the rest of the day answering questions- from reporters, from people questioning, from allies and parents and partners, all curious.

He shakes hands with people who call him an inspiration, who say that his youtube videos helped them find themselves, who are so very grateful to have found a place that accepts them at last.

It makes Enjolras feel a bit like a fake. Everyone he meets in the asexual community talks about that sense of relief, the feeling of alienation Most of them speak of how much they wish they weren’t asexual.

But the thing is, Enjolras had never felt odd or different or wrong. He supposes that’s odd and different in and of itself.

He’d thought that everyone else was weird, and wrong, when suddenly all they’d wanted to talk about was girls. He had always had better things to worry about. He had thought that it was because he was better, more dedicated to his causes than everyone else. He had looked down on his friends for being distracted by something so trivial.

When he’d come across the term asexual, it had just made sense. He had started using it to describe himself, and had gotten more and more indignant at the lack of press and media it was getting. He’d wandered into a few forums, but there wasn’t much of a presence in France.

Looking around now, it’s hard to believe that was the case.

\--

“That was a pretty good rally,” Enjolras begins. “But I think that we can do better next time.”

Courfeyrac groans. “Enjolras, we had over 1,000 people there!”

“And half of them came to see the crazies who don’t want sex,” Grantaire calls from the back.

Enjolras turns to scowl at him. “It is not a matter of not wanting sex-”

“It’s a matter of being attracted to people, blah, blah blah!” Grantaire interuppts. “I’ve heard it all before, Apollo. I’m just telling you what people will be saying.”

“People?” Enjolras sneers. “People like you? People who sleep with anyone who looks at them twice and not care if they can remember their name in their morning?”

Grantaire meets his eyes steadily, mouth quirked in a crooked grin. “Careful, deal leader. You don’t want to sound like a slut-shamer.”

Enjolras grits his teeth and turns away, back towards the rest of the group.

“I think that we need to make some more pamphlets, pass them out on campus. The rally was great, but it was more about visibility, and not enough about information.”

“I had three different people ask if asexual meant that we made babies by budding,” Joly says, incredulity heavy in his tone.

“Exactly,” Enjolras replies. “We need to hold more informational settings. Combeferre, see if we can get a copy of the news packet- it wouldn’t hurt if we could show that.”

“Do you think people will be willing to sit and watch it?” Marius asks.

“I think people would be willing to hear Enjolras speak of how the grass grows if he said it with such passion,” Grantaire replies. Enjolras shoots him a dirty look, and is arrested by the look in Grantaure’s dark eyes. He swallows and does not reply.

“How were your experiences at the rally?” He asks instead, pointedly looking away from Grantaire and addressing the group at large.

“I think we did a pretty good job,” Bahorel says. “Having a medical area was a good idea. We handed out water, and people came up and asked us questions they wouldn’t ask their doctor.”

“We should make sure tp have informational packets for you next time,” Enjolras replies. “Who else?”

“I met the most amazing girl,” Marius says, and Enjolras has to fight the urge to put his head in his hands.

“That’s not the sort of thing I meant, Marius.”

“She had the most amazing golden hair, like a princess from a story,” Marius continues, undeterred. 

“And she was at an asexual rally,” Courfeyrac replies. “I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”

Enjolras frowns. “Asexuality does not necessarily denote a lack of romantic interest.”

“She said she was an ally, anyway. She was there with her father and his partner. Apparently the partner is asexuual and they wanted to learn more about it.”

Enjolras frowns. “It’s always good to have people there in support of our cause, but I feel like having sexual people at a rally like this can be damaging to our message-”

“Hey!” Courfeyrac calls. “The rest of us did just fine, thank you.”

“That is not what I meant. These rallies are supposed to be a place of solidarity, without the normal pressures of a sexualized society. If we have sexual people there, it could send the wrong message.”  
Grantaire snorts derisively, and Enjolras turns on him. “Something to add, Grantaire?” He regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth- of course Grantaire has something to add. He always does.

“I think that what you’re saying is bullshit,” Grantaire relies. “You can’t create an entirely isolated society based entirely on sexuality- or lack thereof. I’m all for visibility, I’m all for your cause, but I think the more sexual people you have coming to these rallies, the better. You want people to hear about asexuality? Then you can’t keep people out of asexual events. Let them come, and listen, and talk to people. Let them see it’s not all virgins living in their parents basement-”

“Excuse you!” Enjolras interrupts angrily, but Grantaire steamrolls right over him.

“Most people who are asexual are doing the research- they’re the last people you need at your rallies. What they need to see is that there are people who support them, people who believe them. People who are willing to listen to them! And keeping out anyone who doesn’t fit into your idea of an appropriate audience isn’t going to help anyone.”

Silence falls. Grantaire is in rare form, and even Enjolras has to admit he has a point. He scoffs, and tosses his head, unwilling to concede. “You may have a point,” he says reluctantly, ignoring the way Grantaire beams at him in response. “But I still think that it’s a bad idea to have sexual going around flirting and trying to pull. Which is why, Courfeyrac, I have to remind you, again, please do not hit on people at these rallies!”

“I got three phone numbers from three very lovely ladies,” Courfeyrac protests. “The fact that they don’t want to sleep with me doesn’t make them any less lovely.”

Enjolras rolls his eyes. “My point is that you may be putting unnecessary pressures on these women. I’ve spoken many times about my belief that asexuals should not be expected, or even asked, to have sex. Even if they are involved in a relationship with a sexual person, why should they have to make all the concessions- shouldn’t their partner be making concessions for them?”

“Not everyone views sex as an imposition, Enjolras,” Jehan says quietly, flushing slightly. “Not even all asexuals.”

Enjolras sniffs, but doesn’t reply.

Their meeting tapers out sometime after that, everyone shuffling out of the apartment Enjolras shares with Combeferre.

“That went well, I think,” Combeferre says cheerily. Enjolras makes a face at him, and Combeferre laughs.

“If by that you mean that it could have gone worse, I suppose I agree with you.”

“They had some good points,” Combeferre points out, logical as always.

Enjolras sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I suppose they did. I’ll consider them for the next meeting.”

“See that you do.” Combeferre moves towards his bedroom and hesitates, turning back. “Enjolras. Just because you’re asexual doesn’t mean you can’t have anyone in your life.”

Enjolras sighs, dropping down onto the couch. “I’ve been saying otherwise for so long, it may be too late for me.”

Combeferre snorts. “That’s stupid.” He heads into his room. “Goodnight, Enjolras.”

“Goodnight,” Enjolras replies, pulling his laptop towards him and beginning to sketch out his plans for the next rally. 

Combeferre’s door closes and Enjolras stares at his laptop with a fixed determination.

He does not think about the heavy, warm weight of dark eyes upon his face.


	2. Chapter 2

“The government has raised the taxes on the working class again,” Enjolras says at the beginning of their next meeting. “I think that we should have a rally sometime next week, get peoples attention.”

“You know, if you have so many rallies, eventually people will stop caring,” Grantaire chimes in, and Enjolras scowls at him. Grantaire raises his hands defensively. “I’m just saying, if protest becomes the norm, it will no longer attract attention. That’s all.”

Enjolras sighs. “That’s a good point, Grantaire. Thank you,”

Grantaire looks so surprised that Enjolras feels guilty. He hesitates, wanting to apologize for all the things he’s said in the past, but he bites his lip. That has no place here.

He tries to pick up the thread of what he was saying, but Grantaire is still watching him, eyes dark and intense and still so goddamn surprised and Enjolras cannot look away. Combeferre nudges him, and Enjolras jerks his gaze away. Combeferre looks a breath away from laughter, and when he catches Enjolras eyes, he mouths ‘Taxes’.

“Yes,” Enjolras continues, “the taxes. Right. Perhaps a rally would not be the best way, as Grantaire has pointed out. However, that does not mean that we should do nothing! We can inform the people- how they will be affected, what they can do. Encourage them to write to the government, to call in.”

“We could hand out fliers,” Jehan suggests. “Pass them out on the corners.”

Almost unconsciously, Enjolras finds himself glancing at Grantaire. Grantaire isn’t looking at him, but giving the corner of his table an absent little smile that Enjolras has never seen before. He looks away before Grantaire can sense his gaze and puts all of his attention into the rest of the meeting.

\--

Much to his chagrin, Enjolras finds himself outside Jehan’s apartment, knocking almost sheepishly. He hears soft footsteps indoors and puts his hands behind his back, trying to look as resolute and certain as possible.

“Enjolras.” Jehan is clearly startled. He even peers over Enjolras’ shoulder, looking for some of the others. “Why are you, ah, come in.” He steps aside, letting Enjolras come in past him.

“Thank you,” Enjolras says, feeling uncharacteristically awkward. He stands in the middle of the room, glancing around. Jehan’s small studio is warm and sunny, a vase of fresh cut flowers on the kitchen table. 

Jehan rolls his eyes affectionately. “Oh, just give me your coat and sit down. You clearly came here for a reason- you don’t do social visits.”

Enjolras thinks about protesting, but it’s technically true. Sometimes one of his friends will come to him, and he’ll go to the meetings and the group outings, but he will rarely visit one person just for the sake of it. He opens his mouth, then closes it again when he can’t think of anything to say.

Jehan gives him a small smile. “Let me make you some tea.”

“Tea would be nice,” Enjolras replies blandly, and feels like an idiot.

Jehan comes out with two teacups and nudges Enjolras over on the couch, curling up beside him. “Now, what can I do for you.”

Enjolras stares into his tea. “Jehan, you date.” He trails off.

“I do,” Jehan agrees softly.

“How do you balance it? With being asexual?”

Jehan makes a soft noise of understanding. “Enjolras, you know that the two aren’t mutually exclusive.” His voice is tentative.

“In theory,” Enjolras says. “But in practice, how does? How do I?”

Jehan looks out one of the large windows. “You know, it’s hard to work out the difference between liking sex and still being asexual. For me, sex is fun. I like that connection with my partner. I like showing them that they are beautiful, and I like to be shown that I am beautiful. Maybe I’ve had it easy, I don’t know. I haven’t felt like being asexual has limited me. I think it just makes it easier for me to choose people I’d be happy with.”

Enjolras presses his lips together. “And if you don’t want sex?”

Jehan smiles. “Enjolras, I think all of Paris knows that you do not want sex.”

Enjolras shakes his head, and takes a sip of tea to hide his discomfort. Jehan watches him with sharp eyes.

“But you think that’s the problem, don’t you?”

Embarrassed, and irritated with himself because of it, Enjolras nods.

Jehans sighs and rests his head on Enjolras’ shoulder. “Oh, Enjolras. Everything must be a battle with you. You need to stop thinking about these are two ideas. It’s not as though you can be asexual or you can date. It doesn’t work like that. Anyone who cares about you will understand. You don’t want the ones who don’t.”

“What I do?” Enjolras whispers.

Jehan snorts delicately. “I can promise you, if I’m half as observant as I like to think I am, you have nothing to worry about.”

Enjolras flinches. “You can’t-“

“Be calm, Enjolras. I won’t say anything. But, I just think that you need to stop seeing love as some battle you need to win.”

“I don’t know if I can do that,” Enjolras admits.

Jehan smiles at him. “Then maybe that is what you need to work on first.”

\--

Enjolras likes to think that he has grown as a person, and that he is constantly in the midst of growth, building him up to what he could become.

He is able to look back at things that he has done in the past and see that they were wrong, that he was wrong. He thinks that ability is a good thing, but he does not like the remembrance.

Even before he had ever thought to apply the label of asexuality to himself, there had been this sense of superiority. He had been above the weaknesses, the follies of his peers. When they had wasted their time in bars and in beds, he had been studying for classes or writing out pamphlets or planning his next rally.

He hadn’t used those words at the time, but looking back, he had always thought that he was better than them; above their stupid, petty dramas.

He had certainly thought that he was better than Grantaire.

Grantaire, who had seemed at first glance to be more vice than person, who drank wine like it was water and laughed too easily and looked at Enjolras like he wanted to devour him.

It had made Enjolras angry, those days in the past. He didn’t want to be sexualized, he didn’t want Grantaire’s attentions especially, and he had gone out of his way to explain how repulsive he found the very idea of a relationship. 

Grantaire doesn’t look at him like he wants to devour him anymore, but he’s stuck around and Enjolras still isn’t sure why.

\--

Enjolras lingers around Grantaire’s table after their next meeting. Grantaire’s shoulders are tense, but takes the time to finish whatever he’s working on in his sketchbook before he flips it closed and looks up at Enjolras.

“Can I help you?” he asks archly.

Enjolras swallows around a sudden, uncomfortable bout of nerves. “There is a new historical film at the theatre this weekend,” it’s probably cheating, but he knows from Jehan that Grantaire loves them, “Would you like to, that is, will you go? With me?” He winces, kicking himself for sounding so awkward.

Grantaire tilts his head to the side, staring at him. “Um, sure. Why not?” He sounds hesitant, and Enjolras winces. 

“You don’t have to. Obviously. I don’t want to pressure you into doing something you have no desire to do. That would be the last thing- well, anyway. You can say no.”

Grantaire’s lips quirk into a grin. “I know. Believe me, you’ve made your feelings on informed consent very clear.”

It sounds like a jab, but his eyes are soft, his voice teasing. 

“So, you want to?” Oh god. Enjolras should just turn around and leave. This is quickly passing mildly embarrassing and turning into downright humiliating. 

Grantaire’s smile turns into a grin. “Yeah. I want to. Just text me the time and place.”

Enjolras promises to do so, and walks away grinning. 

\--

The date starts to go bad the second that Grantaire gets to theatre, opens his mouth and says “Where are the others?”

Enjolras’ mouth falls open, and for a moment he just gapes. Grantaire hadn’t made more of an effort than he usually does, paint staining his fingertips and dotting this underside of his jaw. Beside him, in his favorite red shirt and his best pair of black pants, Enjolras feels foolish and over dressed. 

“What others?” 

Grantaire stops looking around to give him a weird look. “Combeferre and Coufeyrac for one. I thought they at least would be with you. Are they running late?”

Which would be the best point for Enjolras to say, no, this is a date. “They couldn’t make it.” He actually has to close his eyes for a long moment to process what he just said. He’s supposed to be good at this. 

Grantaire shrugs. “Ok. Just us then?” His voice cracks, just a little, on ‘us,’ and if Enjolras wasn’t so nervous himself, he might have missed it. It’s reassuring, somehow. Not proof of interest, but something. 

“Apparently.” He opens the door for Grantaire, gesturing him inside. “I already bought us the tickets. You can get the popcorn.” 

Grantaire gives him a confused look, but passes by him into the theatre. “If you insist.”

“I really do.”

They discuss books in line, old ones that they had both read in college. They bicker, but there is something playful in it, the edge lost, and Enjolras finds himself grinning. They almost keep going through the start of the movie, until the old lady behind them shushes them loudly. 

“She’s just bitter,” Grantaire whispers. “She’s here by herself.” His breath stirs the hair tucked behind Enjolras’ ear and Enjolras shifts, suddenly uncomfortable. Suddenly every place where he and Grantaire touch, ankles bumping against one another, forearms pressed together on the arm rest, feels like too much. 

He shifts away, just a bit, but his heart is racing. He’s not sure if it’s fear or nerves or the butterflies of Grantaire’s presence, but he doesn’t like it. Grantaire must pick up on it, because he draws back as well, retreating well into his own space, drawing in like a turtle going back into the shell. 

The movie is blooming into color in front of them, but Enjolras can hardly see it. All his old fears are blooming to the surface. Of Grantaire asking for things that he can’t give. Of wanting to give Grantaire those things and making himself miserable. Of refusing to give those things, and making Grantaire miserable. 

Even if Grantaire was interested in him at some point, he can’t be now. Not after months, years, of having Enjolras yell his own opinions on sex to anyone who will listen. Not after Enjolras spent the first two weeks of their acquaintance making every word a pointed rejection, trying purposefully to kill any interest Grantaire could have for him.

Why did he ever think that this was a good idea? 

Grantaire taps his foot against Enjolras’. “Stop thinking so loud. You’re spoiling the movie.” He tilts popcorn bucket towards Enjolras, keeping his hands carefully clear so that Enjolras doesn’t need to touch him if he doesn’t want to. 

Enjolras takes a deep breath and lets it out. He shifts back so that his shoulder presses against Grantaire’s and takes a handful of popcorn. Grantaire knows him. If Grantaire wants this, wants him, then he knows what he’s getting by now. Enjolras just has to be brave enough to ask for it.

\--

The cafe outside the theatre is crowded, half hipster crowd and half spillover from the theatre or local businesses. Enjolras isn’t sure which crowd they belong to. Probably both, if he’s perfectly honest with himself. 

He watches Grantaire blow carefully on his own cup of coffee, paint stained hands wrapped carefully around the ceramic. Yeah, definitely both. 

The moment spins between them, quiet and calm. Grantaire’s eyes flick from Enjolras to the other patrons then back again. He opens his mouth and hesitates, and for a moment Enjolras thinks he can almost see the shape of words unsaid on Grantaire’s lips.

Then Grantaire shuts his mouth again, and looks around the cafe. 

“What did you think of the movie?” Enjolras is usually comfortable with silence, but Grantaire tends to fidget and it makes him nervous. 

Grantaire looks up at him and smiles, fleeting as a candle flame. “It was terrible. I mean, I loved it, but it was terrible.”

Enjolras laughs. “How can you love it if it was terrible?”

Grantaire tilts his head. “The writing was trite, and the characters were flat, and I had so much fun watching it. That’s what really matters, right?”

Enjolras finds his own mouth ticking up, and he feels warm all of a sudden. “Yeah.” Under the table, he nudges his ankle against Grantaire.

Grantaire flinches, and pulls back, and it’s like a bucket of ice water. Enjolras yanks his foot back, tucking it under the chair. 

When he glances back up, Grantaire is staring at him. When Grantaire leans forward, dark eyes intent, Enjolras swallows.

“Enjolras,” Grantaire stops to take a breath, and Enjolras knows how that feels. “What, exactly, is going on here. I thought this was- you’ve made you feelings, you contempt, for me pretty clear. But now you’re here, and you’re,” he gestures at Enjolras, taking him in from the waist up above the table, “dressed up and fucking gorgeous, and you keep touching me. You don’t touch people.” His cup slides forward across the table when he leans in further, his hands pushing it out absently. “What is going on?”

Enjolras swallows hard. “I thought, I.” He stops. Takes a breath, let’s it out. All his eloquence seems to have deserted him. “I was hoping that this would be a date. I hadn’t realized you didn’t know.”

Grantaire stares at him, though Enjolras can’t see how he expected anything else.

“But, you hate me,” Grantaire blurts out, then raises a hand before Enjolras can protest. “No, that’s not fair. I don’t think that you hate me anymore. But you certainly haven’t been shy about your contempt for relationships, or for me in particular.”

Enjolras reaches out. He wants to put his hands on Grantaire’s and doesn’t quite dare. He rests them in front of Grantaire’s cupped palms instead. “First of all, I never hated you.” Grantaire snorts and Enjolras knocks his hands against Grantaire’s, then pulls away again. “I didn’t. But, you might not be wrong, about my contempt. I didn’t- I was wrong. About a lot of things. I’m sorry.”

Grantaire croaks out a laugh, and it sounds hoarse and choked. “Right. OK.” 

“But I know better now. I would like to date. You. I would like to date you.” Enjolras has to take a moment to close his eyes because this could not be going worse if he actively tried to fuck this up.

“Enjolras, look.” Oh god. Here comes the polite rejection. “I know I haven’t been very subtle about my feelings for you.” Enjolras’ eyes snap open. Grantaire is tracing patterns in the condensation on the table, not making eye contact. “And I appreciate what you’re trying to do. But you don’t date. You’ve made it very, very clear about how you feel about dating sexually active people.”

Before he can think better of it, Enjolras reaches out to Grantaire’s hand. “You know, I actually have no idea what your feelings towards me are. I thought, well, when we first met you made it very clear that you found me attractive.” He ignores the rude sound that Grantaire makes in response. “But you’ve stopped, in the last few months. I thought that you lost interest.”

Grantaire turns his fingers so that they interlace with Enjolras’. “Because it was making you uncomfortable. I didn’t think that I had a chance in hell, I’ve made no secret about the fact that I like sex. I didn’t want to lose the chance to be your friend as well.”

Enjolras almost tries to pull his hand free. “And if I wanted to date now?” Grantaire squeezes his hand tight and Enjolras smiles at him. “Would you be able to- I don’t want sex Grantaire. I like you. I like you a lot, but I can’t do that.”

Grantaire actually laughs. “Enjolras, all of France knows that you don’t want sex. You have been literally shouting it from the rooftops since I met you. I don’t care. I knew what I was getting the moment I realized that Iov- that I care for you.”

His face almost hurts from smiling, but he has to ask. “And you’re ok with that? I know you like sex.”

Grantaire lifts their joined hands to his mouth and kisses the back of his own knuckles. It’s symbolic and sweet and Enjolras feels his heart flip over. “I like you a lot more,” he says softly. 

“Good,” Enjolras has to clear his throat. “I’m glad.”

Grantaire beams back at him, so stupidly happy he almost glows from it. Enjolras has never seen anything more lovely. “Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any questions for me, or just want to chat- check me out at my tumblr by the same name.


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